Game of Thrones: Tragedy and Reunions

Next chapter of my Game of Thrones story, enjoy :)

Reviews

Emeloo2: Thanks, glad you enjoyed it, here you go :)
Patrick: Thanks, glad you are enjoying it, this story will have four POV characters; not counting the prologue character, this is the third one :)
Gemzy; Yeah, I often wondered how things could've been different. Glad you enjoyed it :)

Now onto the story.

Disclaimer: Game of Thrones belongs to George R.R. Martin.

Bran

They had already been this way, Bran was sure of it. However a moment later he wasn't so sure. Had they? All the trees looked the same! There was no way to tell if this was the clearing they had left some time ago, or a new one. He sighed and shook his head.

"Are we still heading the right way?" He asked.

Jojen Reed nodded in confirmation. "I have faith we are."

Bran wasn't convinced however, at that moment Jojen's older sister, Meera, looked up and smiled at him.

"Do you doubt my tracking skills, Bran?" She asked playfully and Bran felt his mouth suddenly go dry.

"N-n-no, of course not, I..." He stammered before clearing his throat. "It's just, it all looks the same, how can you tell...if we've been here before or not?"

Meera smiled at him and Bran felt heat rising in his cheeks. "It's all about subtle differences. You have to look carefully, if you know what you're looking for, you can find them."

He nodded and Meera continued to lead them forwards. Bran shifted his weight slightly, getting himself more comfortable. The basket in which he rode sometimes hurt if he didn't sit right. Hodor never seemed to notice however. Bran looked around carefully, making sure they were still together. Jojen was walking next to Hodor on the left hand side; Meera led the group, with both Direwolves keeping pace with her. Rickon was on his right while Osha brought up the rear, constantly checking over her shoulder.

Bran turned his attention back to the front of the group. He soon found himself gazing at Meera. He smiled as he watched her; as was typical of crannogmen, male or female, she was short and slim. Her slight appearance however belied her strength as Bran had seen her fight; she was an expert hunter and tracker and could take down prey larger than herself. He had also seen her mock fight with Summer and win, he admired that strength. He also admired the way her hair, slightly messy from travel, fell down her back; whenever she turned her head and he caught the profile of her face he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

'She's beautiful.' He thought to himself, 'Those eyes...'

Meera's green eyes were similar to her brother's, but while Jojen's were solemn, Meera's were bright and seemed to shine most of the time. Bran knew that most men would probably not find her that attractive, particularly since she was flat chested, but his opinion was different. Bran felt strange; he had felt something for Meera Reed the moment he first saw her; the way he had blushed when she smiled at him when she first arrived in Winterfell. That felt so long ago, and as time went on, that feeling had grown stronger.

'Do I...love her?' He wondered to himself. But the elated feeling was soon gone. 'Not that it matters if I do...She couldn't love me, who could love a cripple.'

He was letting his bitterness fester again he realized, and quickly pushed the thoughts away.

He was still fixated on Meera when his younger brother's voice caught his attention.

"What are you staring at, Bran?" He asked innocently. Bran felt himself flush however and immediately stammered.

"I...Nothing, I wasn't...I wasn't looking at anything."

Rickon frowned. "Yes you were, you were looking at something up ahead."

Bran shook his head. "It's nothing, Rickon, don't worry about it."

Rickon huffed and looked ahead, trying to see what Bran had been staring at.

Bran fought back a laugh when he saw Rickon craning his neck trying to see. 'He's too young to realize it was Meera I was staring at.'

Just then Osha quickened her pace and caught up to them.

"We've been travelling for a long time; we should probably stop and rest." She said; "The little one has to be getting tired."

Rickon turned and glared at her, defiant. "I'm fine." He insisted.

Osha sighed and shook her head. "Well, you're not the only one, Hodor is getting tired."

"Hodor." Hodor replied, somewhat indignantly.

Bran looked down, Hodor was breathing heavily and seemed to be perspiring; he felt a surge of guilt; knowing it was the added weight of carrying him on his back that was tiring Hodor out.

Jojen however spoke up. "We can't stop, not here, we're not safe here."

Meera turned around to face her brother. "Another Greendream?" She asked and Jojen nodded.

"We are surrounded by flayed men, they approach us with weapons and strike, after that, it's just black - and a woman wailing in pain."

They were all silent, considering Jojen's words; having seen his dreams come true too many times to doubt his words.

After a while Rickon broke the silence.

"Isn't the flayed man the sigil of the Boltons?" He asked. Bran nodded.

"That's right." He replied. "But why would they attack us, aren't they Robb's bannermen?"

Jojen shrugged. "If we want to get to your brother and his camp; we're better off not getting caught by them."

"But if Hodor's tired, we're not going to make progress." Osha pointed out. Finally Meera smiled.

"I'll carry Bran." She offered.

Bran gaped at her, once again feeling the heat rising to his face; he prayed his face wasn't actually red when he replied. "Meera I..."

She shook her head, still smiling. "It's fine, I can manage, plus it gives Hodor a chance to catch his breath while we can keep moving."

Despite how flustered he felt Bran knew there was logic in what she said so he agreed. They had just reached another clearing; this one had a small rock formation in the middle of it.

"Hodor stop." Bran told the gentle giant, he did so and on Bran's instruction knelt down.

Osha lifted Bran out of the basket and sat him down on the rock as Hodor stood up.

Osha then turned to Meera. "Are you sure about this, I can carry him too."

Meera nodded. "It's fine, I'll carry him, if I get tired..."

"That's when I carry him, alright."

Meera then turned around and knelt down next to the rock, her back to Bran.

"Put your arms around my shoulders and hold on." She told him.

He did so and she straightened up, moving her arms under his legs; now she had a proper grip and he was secure on her back. She nodded and they kept moving.

Bran could feel his heart hammering in his chest and prayed that Meera couldn't feel it. He was certain that his face was completely red by now; this was the closest he had ever been to Meera. This close he could smell the sharp yet sweet forest like smell she had; could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. Yet he could not feel her hands. Positioned as they were, holding his useless legs up. The thought made him feel sad but he didn't let it show and instead secretly revelled in the new sensation he felt at being so close to her. He just hoped none of the others could see, as they walked on, Meera seemed to have no trouble carrying him; confirming his thoughts that she was stronger than she looked. He turned his head; trying hard to calm his rapidly beating heart and saw Osha looked around, a worried expression on her face.

"Osha?" He asked; concerned.

She inhaled sharply and then replied. "I feel we're being watched; something approaches - closer than we thought."

As if to confirm her words Summer and Shaggydog both pricked up their ears, sniffed the air and started to growl.

Rickon immediately began to panic; "What's going on?"

Jojen looked around too. "The flayed men, it must be!"

Meera also looked around. "We have to keep moving, hurry!"

At that moment a whistling sound caught his attention, then something flew past Meera in a blur and hit a nearby tree with a thud. It just nicked her right ear, dark red blood started to well to the cut. It slowly dawned on Bran: it was an arrow. Before he could react, the woods erupted into action. Strange men bearing the sigil of the Boltons, a flayed man, poured into the clearing. They were all armed and ready for a fight!

One of their voices was louder than the rest. "That's them, the Princes of Winterfell; grab them!"

Bran, unable to fight, could only observe the fray from Meera's back. Osha sprang into action, fighting back fiercely, her wildling heritage evident from her throaty growls. Summer and Shaggydog leapt from man to man in a frenzy, biting off a hand, or tearing at a throat. Meera was cut off from her weapons, having put them down to carry Bran. Over the din, Bran could see Jojen yelling something, but he couldn't make out the words. However Meera did, and instantly sprang into action. Meera's swift movements were too much for Bran's equilibrium, and the rest was a blur.

Eventually the men's shouts and screams, and the Direwolves' growls, died away. The only sounds remaining was Bran's own heart beat, thumping loudly in his ears, and Meera's heavy breathing. She slumped into a dense copse of shrubs, mindful of the boy on her back, and groaned into her hands.

"I think we're safe now," she looked around, "but we've lost the others."

Bran looked around too, taking in the new surroundings properly for the first time; Rickon, Osha, both Direwolves, Hodor and Jojen were absent. His stomach began to knot in worry.

"You don't think...?"

Meera shook her head. "I saw them all get away; they're alive at least. We just have to try and find them again."

Bran nodded and Meera helped him get into a more comfortable position before beginning their search.

End of chapter, hope you enjoyed it, read and review please.